


May 1687: Bathtime

by schwertlilie



Series: White Flags [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Gen, Historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-11
Updated: 2012-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 22:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schwertlilie/pseuds/schwertlilie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis hears some disturbing things while in the bath with his little brother, but the people are just following the government's lead. </p><p>WARNING: Implied child neglect (not by Francis)</p>
            </blockquote>





	May 1687: Bathtime

_May 1687 :: Quebec City, Canada_

Francis poured handfuls of water down Matthew's back and chest, admiring the way his pale skin glistened. "Ready to wash your hair, kitten?"

"Mm-hm." Matthew wiggled against Francis' chest, sending little waves to lap against Francis' knees. 

"That usually means you have to lean forward, sugar."

"But you're warm." 

Francis couldn't help but smile at his colony's cuteness. Really, the roast beef had no idea what he was missing in fussing only over the southern brother. "The water's warm too."

"You're warmer." He hesitated. "And the soap gets in my eyes."

"Have _I_ ever gotten soap in your eyes, Matthieu?"

"No, but-" He wiggled again, though without his earlier cuteness. "Whenever I wash my hair it does."

Francis stroked Matthieu's spine, considering. "Do you usually wash your hair yourself?"

"Uh-huh."

"Are there other things you do by yourself?"

"Uh-huh. I make my bed, and fetch and heat my bathwater, and make my fire in the morning. Sometimes I even cook!" He smiled over his shoulder. "Marie says I'm a big boy, and big boys should be able to take care of themselves. But it's nice when you're here - it's hard to get the fire high enough on my own, and you make delicious crepes."

"The governor and the intendant don't look in on you?"

"They do - Marie makes sure the house is clean enough when they visit, since I can't dust the mantel without a chair, and she brings me groceries. I only have to cook when it's cold, or the snow's on the ground."

Which was nearly half the year; if he didn't know better, Francis wouldn't believe that Montreal and Paris were nearly the same latitude. "Is Marie the only helper you have?"

"Jean-Marc comes by with wood, and sometimes his wife's stew." He lifted his foot from the water, wiggled his toes as droplets ran down his heel. "Genevieve makes good stew - it's almost like yours, with the rosemary." 

He took a breath, let it out. Looked closely at Matthieu's ribs and tried to decide if he was thin simply from the condition of his colony or from neglect. 

Not that neglect of the body precluded neglect of the colony...

"Would you like someone else to come and help, while I'm gone?" He wet Matthieu's hair, massaged in the soap while Matthieu made happy noises. "I asked you a question, kitten."

"Wha- Oh! But I'm supposed to take care of myself, now, Marie said so."

"Having help doesn't mean that you _can't_ take care of yourself. Don't you remember the man I brought to do my laundry?" 

"Uh-huh." He pushed into Francis' hands, and Francis didn't resist, took his time washing Matthieu's scalp. 

"So, would you like some help? It would give you more time to work on your studies, and to listen in on the Sovereign Council." 

He couldn't miss Matthieu's pout, not with the way his shoulders hunched and were only soothed with some careful scalp scritches. 

"You're a colony, my little man, which means you have more responsibilities than most children." He picked the cup from the side table, coaxed Matthieu to tilt his head back. "You don't have the time to spend every day cooking," he said as he poured bathwater through Matthieu's hair, rinsing out the bubbles. "There's no shame in having someone make your food, help you when you bathe, clean your clothes..." 

"That'd be getting above myself. Only important people have servants."

Francis sighed. What to say, what to say... "You _are_ important, kitten - you're a crown colony, not the fifth child of a title-less habitant. Not even the fortress blacksmith is as important as you are." 

"But I don't _do_ anything. I just sit around and listen to people talk, and sometimes practice my letters."

"Oh _Matthieu_." He kissed his boy's temple. "That _is_ what you need to be doing. You can't learn if you have no guide to what you are feeling, how things are progressing. And it takes time, kitten, and many many council meetings."

Matthieu sighed, so very like Francis, and looked away. 

Not a complete victory, then, but a start. "I'll find you someone suitable before I leave, yes?" He'd begin as soon as he gave the Sovereign Council a piece of his mind, and sent a letter to Louis. He'd have to look in on his other colonies as well.

Matthieu nodded, eyes still on the wall. 

"Good. Now," he tucked a wet strand of hair behind Matthieu's ear, "would you help me wash my hair?"

Matthieu turned cautiously, like he was waiting for Francis to add another condition; Francis simply smiled, handed him the bar of soap. 

"... Okay." He scooted back to give Francis room to turn.

"Thank you, kitten. And then once we're dry, I'll see about making you some proper white sausage, hm?"

 _There_ was his smile back, and all the answer Francis needed.


End file.
